Clothes Make the Man
by cinnamonblood
Summary: Hisoka's poor fashion sense is starting to get to Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki/Hisoka.


Peas, Tsuzuki thought, biting the end of his ink pen. Hisoka's pullover was exactly the same color as peas. Possibly _regurgitated_ peas. That would've been bad enough on its own, but Hisoka's trousers were the same kind of brownish-orange as the carpeting one would expect to find in a house built in the 1970s. Combined with Hisoka's red sneakers, they made up the worst outfit he'd worn that week. Tsuzuki reminded himself that it was only Tuesday, and still too early to mentally bestow the award for Most Hideous Outfit of the Week. Who knew what terrors Friday might bring?

A thought occurred to him. "Are you color blind?" Tsuzuki said.

"What?" Hisoka blinked and looked up from his papers. "Why would you even ask that?"

"No reason," Tsuzuki lied.

"No," Hisoka said, caught between confusion and annoyance. "I'm not."

"Oh," Tsuzuki said. Well, there went _that_ theory.

* * *

Wednesday morning. Tatsumi had called a meeting. Hisoka wore a shirt which, while possessing the virtue of being black and white, lost any merit that may have earned it by also being printed in a pattern that did strange and horrible things to one's eyes. Tsuzuki looked at his partner and blinked furiously.

Tatsumi interrupted his thoughts. "Tsuzuki, did you hear one word of what I just said?"

"Hmm?" Tsuzuki pinched the bridge of this nose and tried to look at anything but Hisoka's shirt. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"I don't think you were," Tatsumi said. "I think you were too busy batting your eyelashes at your partner to listen to the information I'm giving you. When you find yourself covered in slime from this hell-beast, you'll wish you'd paid more attention."

Tsuzuki muttered an apology and tried to focus on Tatsumi's voice. Across the table, Watari drank his coffee, steam rising up and fogging his glasses with every sip as he watched Tsuzuki, who fidgeted under his gaze. Ten minutes later the meeting was dismissed and the four men filed out of the room variously in search of documents, more coffee and, in Tsuzuki's case, a good pair of sunglasses.

* * *

Another assignment, another cheap hotel. Whether by fate, misfortune, or Tsuzuki calling ahead and bribing someone, they only had one room available. One room, with one bed.

Tsuzuki settled in under the pastel bedspread and flipped through a men's fashion magazine. He briefly considered stashing it under Hisoka's pillow. If the boy didn't find it and take the hint, maybe he'd absorb some fashion sense through osmosis.

The bathroom door clicked open and Hisoka shuffled out wearing faded blue pyjamas and a dark green dressing gown. Tsuzuki looked him over and decided he actually looked pretty decent for once. He wasn't ready to hit the catwalks in Milan, but he didn't look _bad_. In fact, that shade of green sort of brought out Hisoka's eyes. Not that they need it, Tsuzuki considered. If Hisoka's eyes were any larger they'd pop out of his skull.

"Stop staring!" Hisoka said, clutching the towel he'd been using to dry his hair. He blushed.

"Sorry," Tsuzuki said. "You look nice."

"Whatever," Hisoka mumbled, blushing harder.

"Hmm…" Tsuzuki cast the magazine aside and gave Hisoka his best come-hither look. "Perhaps you'd rather skip the chit-chat entirely and-" Hisoka's towel hit him in the face. It was damp and smelled like hotel soap.

"Stay on your side," Hisoka warned, crawling beneath the covers and turning off the bedside lamp. Tsuzuki grumbled and moved over five inches. It just wasn't his night.

* * *

The mission would have gone a lot better had Tsuzuki _not_ sent a fire shikigami straight into a giant slime demon. The resulting explosion had been truly spectacular.

_Squelch._

Tsuzuki looked downtrodden. He also looked down at the carpet, which he was dripping ooze onto with every step. He had the feeling he'd hear about that later.

"Tatsumi specifically told you not to do that," said Hisoka, who had been spared the brunt of the explosion by using his partner as a shield. "This is what happens when you daydream in meetings. You miss vital information."

"Yeah, yeah..." Tsuzuki groaned. He'd slept poorly, had a headache since breakfast, and was covered in slime, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that Hisoka had spent all day wearing an outfit that appeared to have been fashioned out of discarded upholstery. Tsuzuki wondered if he could rummage through Watari's desk for aspirin without getting slime everywhere.

As though summoned by Tsuzuki's thoughts, Watari appeared from a nearby office. He paused in the hallway and gave Tsuzuki a critical look.

"Hey, Watari," Tsuzuki said.

Watari ignored the greeting and continued to look Tsuzuki up and down. One could almost see the cogs turning in his head. His brow furrowed for a moment and then he walked on without a word.

"What was that about?" Hisoka asked, holding the elevator door for his partner.

"I don't know," Tsuzuki said. "Has Watari been acting strange lately?"

"Strange?" Hisoka said, pressing the down button. "_Watari_? I'd be concerned if he starting acting normal."

"You may have a point."

* * *

They were in the library when it finally happened.

Green stripes, Tsuzuki thought. Green stripes on a purple shirt that went out of style over a decade ago. That was it. That was the last straw. Tsuzuki took a deep breath and prepared to make his move.

Hisoka had been searching through a stack of files when he felt Tsuzuki's hands on his shoulders. "Tsuzuki?"

"That's it!" Tsuzuki yelled. "I can't take it anymore!" He shoved Hisoka back against a shelf and started unbuttoning the boy's shirt.

"What-? Tsuzuki!"

"Shut up!" Tsuzuki said, tearing the shirt off Hisoka and holding it up for him to see. "THIS! This is hideous! All your clothes are hideous! How can you not know this? Are you color blind? Do you not have a mirror at home?"

Hisoka stared at him, eyes huge and slightly terrified. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your clothes, damn it!" Tsuzuki snarled. "You have the worst fashion sense- No, you don't have _any_ fashion sense! Your clothes are horrible, Hisoka!"

"I... My clothes... Are you serious?" Hisoka stuttered. "I mean, they're just _clothes_. Who cares what they look like?"

"I care!" Tsuzuki said. "I care because I'm your partner and I have to see you every day! You and your hideous wardrobe! And you'd look so much _prettier_-"

Hisoka glared.

"Nicer!" Tsuzuki amended. "You'd look so much _nicer_ if your clothes weren't so awful. Why don't we get you some new clothes? Hmm? Please?" Tsuzuki tilted Hisoka's chin up and gave him a warm smile. Hisoka turned bright red and looked away. "Oh... all right," he muttered.

"How about tomorrow?" Tsuzuki said. "We can have dinner while we're at it. We'll make it a date!"

"What?" Hisoka said. "Hold it-"

"Too late to back out now! You already agreed! See you tomorrow!" Tsuzuki darted off, Hisoka's shirt still absentmindedly clutched in his hands.

"Wait! Tsuzuki!" Hisoka started after his partner and almost ran face-first into GuShoShin.

"Um," Hisoka said. He grabbed a nearby folder and clutched it to his bare chest. "It's not what it-"

"No need to explain! I was never even here!" GuShoShin announced and darted the other way.

Hisoka groaned.

* * *

Tsuzuki practically danced down the hallway. That had gone better than he'd expected. Not only had he talked Hisoka into getting new clothes, he'd even managed to make it a date.

Tatsumi spotted him in the hall. "Oh, there you are. Watari's waiting for you in the meeting room. He said there's something he wants to discuss."

"Sure thing!" Tsuzuki said. He couldn't imagine what Watari wanted, but he didn't care. He was in a good mood and nothing could possibly ruin that. Tsuzuki opened the door to the darkened meeting room. "Watari? You wanted to see me?"

Strong hands grabbed Tsuzuki and pulled him forward, slamming the door behind him. Tsuzuki hit the boardroom table with a loud thud as Watari climbed over him.

"Wa- Watari! What are you-?"

"Shut up!" Watari snarled, loosening Tsuzuki's tie. He grabbed Tsuzuki's shirt and pulled, sending plastic buttons flying across the polished surface of the table. Granted, this was not the first time Watari had torn Tsuzuki's clothes off, but the last time he'd done so he'd had a good reason.

"I haven't been bitten by any demons lately! I swear!" Tsuzuki said.

"I said _shut up_!" Watari yelled. He ripped Tsuzuki's jacket off and held it in front of him. "This! This is _cheap_! All your suits are cheap! I can't stand it any longer!"

Tsuzuki blinked at the golden-eyed fury above him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your suits, damn it!" Watari said. "They're horrible!"

"But... I..."

Watari leaned over him, so close their noses almost touched. His glasses nearly slid off. "We're going shopping tomorrow. We're going to buy you some new suits."

"Tomorrow! But- No, I can't! I have plans!"

Watari moved an inch closer, his breath hot on Tsuzuki's lips. "That wasn't a request."

Tsuzuki gulped. "Okay."

Watari smiled. "Good! Then it's settled. I'll see you tomorrow! Let's have dinner, too, okay?" He leaped off the table and skipped away as cheerful as ever.

Alone in the half-light of the meeting room, Tsuzuki stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out what had just happened. He either had to shuffle his two dates so they didn't coincide, which sounded tricky, or he had to take Hisoka and Watari out at the same time, which sounded... kind of intriguing.

Tsuzuki grinned and decided to make reservations for three.


End file.
